BENGALURU: Some people are born with good looks, some with an athletic build. I have the honour of carrying weird hairstyles all through my life. Different portions of my life have had me looking like an out-of-work Baba and an alcoholic painter. I have carried the Tere Naam hairstyle for a couple of years, followed by the Aparachit look for another few.
Part of it could be attributed to my upbringing in Bhubaneswar, a city where all the barbers have been trained to cut hair in one style. I do my research, and go fully prepared. I download a picture of the person I am to look like, and show it to the barber. However, barbers have a knack of dishing out life advice that is completely unsolicited. “That hairstyle won’t suit you”, my barber says, bursting my ego instantly.
It is something you cannot do in any other field. For example, if you’re building a house and want to get marble flooring, the builder is not going to say ‘Saar, marble flooring will not suit you’. But barbers get away with statements like that. Barbers also dish out life-advice that is unasked for. I have had barbers telling me to reduce smoking and exercise a little.
I am yet to meet a single person in my life who is happy with their barber. When I watched a movie called Sweeney Todd – a film where a barber brutally kills people who come to his salon – shivers of familiarity ran down my spine. I have secretly prayed that Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning take over hair designing. I want to have a robot cut my hair, while speaking to me with love and respect.
I suffer from another issue with barbers – wearing spectacles. I speak five languages and speak to people for a living. However, in front of a barber, the knowledge is of no use. After I explain my requirement, I am asked to sit on the chair, along with the three magic words - ‘Remove your spects’. Once I remove my spectacles, I cannot see beyond a few inches. By the time he is done, I look into the mirror and ask ‘Who are you? ’
I finally found my Dream Barber this week. I walked into a ‘cutting shop’ and spoke to the young barber. After showing him pictures, he said: ‘Saar, I’ll cut your hair such that NOBODY will be able to tell you got a haircut’. Violins began to play in my ears. He let me wear my spectacles and inspect myself after every snip of the scissors. I don’t look like Aparichit anymore. I look like Remo, his alter-ego. It’s been a few days, and I have a feeling we are in this for the long run. For there is no greater happiness than a barber who listens to you. Nirvaana be damned!
(The author is a writer and comedian)